On and On
by Orwhatwehave
Summary: This wasn't how it was supposed to be. She had imagined it so differently. This dress wasn't supposed to be black. Ship? whatever suits your fancy. Short, complete, R&R!


**Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize, which I think will be very little**

**A/N: Sorry I haven't updated recently, there's been so much to do**

**To Amy-**

**The road lay before you**

**Your path was clear**

**You kept running,**

**But you left us behind**

**We cherish those brief moments together**

**All of us**

**You were always so strong**

**And we have faith**

……

……

……

_There's a grief that can't be spoken._

_There's a pain goes on and on._

She gazed about her, taking in the long tables, the draping white cloth edged with lace, the blue tulips scattered about the room.

Music played softly from the magical player in the corner. It swept through the air, sending shivers up her spine as the melody wove through lingering memories.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be. She had imagined it so differently. This dress wasn't supposed to be black. She had picked the other out only a week before, and her friends and family had gasped in wonder. The white garment had made her look angelic even with her copper hair thrown haphazardly into a messy bun.

As she gazed at the large empty hall surrounding her, she wondered briefly what she would have looked like had this really been her wedding day. No sooner than the idle thought had flittered into her mind than she had scolded herself for being so materialistic. Especially now. She wiped away a stray tear.

_Empty chairs at empty tables_

_Now my friends are dead and gone._

Why did it have to be them- why all of them? She thought of the man she loved. She had been destined to marry him. Today of all days- but she and he could never be joined in holy matrimony.

His spirit, the one she had cherished for so long, was no longer in his hands. His body, the one she had caressed and loved, was no longer hers to touch. His heart though- his heart still possessed much of hers, and she would never regain it.

Colin had been right after all then. Love hurt. It was better not to love then to be put through so much pain. Yet wasn't that all going against her favourite mantra? To love was to risk being hurt- but not to love was the greatest risk of all?

She sighed. Now was not the time for such thoughts. All her friends, her family- even her fiancé- were dead, her home was gone and there was nothing but twisted and taunting memories for her to hold on to. She turned her gaze up to the stage.

_Here they talked of revolution._

_Here it was they lit the flame._

Something in her sleeve was scratching her arm- gingerly she pulled it out. It was a scrunched up piece of parchment. She smiled grimly at it; it was as if it was taunting her. Her wedding speech. Yet now she had no groom to speak it with, and she could not even be classified as a widow.

_Here they sang about tomorrow'_

_And tomorrow never came._

They had all been called out sometime in the night, or so she was told. Apparently they had assumed she needed her beauty sleep for the big day that was to dawn. Little did they know that the day was never to come. Perhaps, if she had known what would of come to pass, she would've done things differently- not taken her stress out on the others, told them she loved them.

To think that her last words to him were: "don't forget the cake'. Those words would haunt her till her dying day- but somehow dying didn't seem nearly so bad now. What was there to live for?

_From the table in the corner_

_They could see a world reborn_

_And they rose with voices ringing_

_I can hear them now!_

_The very words that they had sung_

_Became their last communion_

_On the lonely barricade at dawn._

They had been fighting for a good cause. Yet what was a good cause? What was the War, anyway? A futile struggle; a battle between those who had power, those who wanted it and those who were going to get it.

It didn't matter now. Through their suffering they had ended the fight- the Dark Lord and many of his followers and preceded her kin to the grave. If only she could have gone down with them, they would all still be together.

_Oh my friends, my friends forgive me_

_That I live and you are gone._

Footsteps behind her alerted her to a fellow mourner. She had thought that all who would have come were dead. Immersed in her gloom, she neglected to turn around.

Cool fingers grazed her skin as a hand lifted her chin to turn her gaze. Worried silver eyes met tear-filled brown ones.

Of all the times for Draco Malfoy to decide he was worthy of a weasel's company, this had to be both the worst and the best. He had temporarily put their startling differences aside, and so would she. She pulled him into a tight hug.

_There's a grief that can't be spoken._

_There's a pain goes on and on._

"They're all gone." She had meant it to come out as a soft whisper, but heard it as sort of strangled murmur.

"I know." Was that sadness she heard? Regret? She lifted her eyes to meet his and indeed saw a world of pain. Who would've thought that he would mourn them? Perhaps some others had died, some which she had not heard about. After all, the news had been so much to take, at the time, that she had not lingered to listen to details.

"I loved her." Shock swept through her body. Who? She had thought this creature, whether or not he had fought for the light, to be incapable of such emotions. The question formed on her lips, but as she turned her head to ask him, she realized that he was gone.

_Phantom faces at the window._

_Phantom shadows on the floor._

More footsteps. This time she turned. No one. But then…

Was that a wisp of raven hair she had seen, or was she imagining things? She swore she had heard someone sigh. Again she turned.

_Empty chairs at empty tables_

_Where my friends will meet no more._

That was when she realized the truth. Her friends, family and lover were still there, and always would be. Watching over her- and she wouldn't have to look far to find them. They wouldn't have wanted her to be this way.

_Oh my friends, my friends, don't ask me_

_What your sacrifice was for_

_Empty chairs at empty tables_

_Where my friends will sing no more._

There was a future lying ahead of her, aside from that which had been so cruelly snatched away. She had to live the life that they would have wished of her. She had to be strong, as her fiancé had been for her, she had to be for them. And for herself. The time to mourn, though brief, was over, and now she was left to clear up the mess and start again.

……

……

……

**A/N: Like it, love it? Review! The song, by the way, was Empty Chairs at Empty Tables, from Les Miserables, by Alain Boublil. I thought of someone while I was listening to it, and couldn't help but write this story, which has little to do with her.**

**The whole song:**

_There's a grief that can't be spoken._

_There's a pain goes on and on._

_Empty chairs at empty tables_

_Now my friends are dead and gone._

_Here they talked of revolution._

_Here it was they lit the flame._

_Here they sang about tomorrow'_

_And tomorrow never came._

_From the table in the corner_

_They could see a world reborn_

_And they rose with voices ringing_

_I can hear them now!_

_The very words that they had sung_

_Became their last communion_

_On the lonely barricade at dawn._

_Oh my friends, my friends forgive me_

_That I live and you are gone._

_There's a grief that can't be spoken._

_There's a pain goes on and on._

_Phantom faces at the window._

_Phantom shadows on the floor._

_Empty chairs at empty tables_

_Where my friends will meet no more._

_Oh my friends, my friends, don't ask me_

_What your sacrifice was for_

_Empty chairs at empty tables_

_Where my friends will sing no more._


End file.
